Love You Over
by intallah
Summary: Lighten up, she tells him. He hides. Neji/Tenten.


**Love You Over**

It was a quiet summer-quiet and dragging, the flushed days blending into slow, humid nights that were filled with festivals and sordid parties to pass the time, waste away the newfound peace.

Neji hated it. It was driving him crazy, boredom that laced his senses and everyone else's. It was slowing them down, this sickly peace. It lulled and soothed, and everyone seemed foolish enough to follow, hushed into a stupor of sake and laughter and freedom.

Tenten told him to lighten up, her laughter breathy and loose. "We all deserve it," she whispered, "We should celebrate." _And grieve._ But she did not say that part out loud, because that would be nothing more than a reminder.

He insisted on training everyday, having Tenten fire weapon after weapon until both of their chests were heaving and sweat dripped down their brows. He found her most attractive then, when she dropped to her knees and pushed her bangs out of her flushed face. Her eyes would sparkle and her breaths would come in hard, fast pulls. And he thought it was the most beautiful thing, the way strands of hair fell around her tanned face like chestnut ribbons. It almost overwhelmed him, the rush of her beauty and her pride. Tenten kept her pride pressed close to her, where no one could really see it. But Neji felt it, and he loved it.

She was lovely in the evening; when she asked him sweetly to please, let's go to this party, this dinner. He frowned and never said yes right away, but he thrilled at the sight of her with her eyes lined with gold and navy, the glossy V of her neck and collar disappearing into a kimono, her hair teased and tossed into curls that fell lightly around her shoulders. So he always said yes in the end, if only to see her face light up and hear her ecstatic thank you.

No one was fighting so most of the village's effort went into partying anyway, partying and training. Neji could not complain about the long nights at Naruto's apartment, or Ino's place, getting drunk off of good sake and bad liquor, Tenten draped over him, her words hot and heavy against his neck but her lips never quite making it to his. But it was empty, empty days and nights, sweating away the summer.

Neji thought that perhaps he could love her; but only because he body felt so right when it was against his, only because when she touched him-her fingers light on his arm, grazing his cheek-he knew he wanted more, he knew that he could never be satisfied. And the feeling frightened him, tore through him and overpowered him. It came in waves-the scent of her soap, or the flick of her hair against his fingers.

_What are you so afraid of?_ She asked him one night, as they sat against a watchful tree, not quite touching. He looked at her, the deep honey of her eyes and wondered if she even saw anything reflected in his.

"Breaking," He whispered, "Too easily," and he regretted it. She only smiled.

"Then let me," She twisted towards him, and he felt her words against his jaw as her hands brushed tentatively through his hair. Her face was too close and he didn't know whether to focus on the cherry of her lips or the desire in her eyes, perhaps searching for the same thing in his. He touched her back, her skin heated through the thin silk of her kimono and she arched against him, his name a sigh from between her lips. He had never heard his name like that, never heard it said with such-love, or something a lot like it.

"I don't know if I can protect you," he murmured, pressing his lips to her cheek, "I don't know how strong-"

"Oh, Neji," she cut him off and brushed her lips against his, quickly. He ached for her, pulling her against him, her body so lean and warm. "You don't have to protect me," She smiled and finally, _finally_ let him kiss her, gently, his hands tugging through her hair and his fingers tracing patterns against her back. She let her hands linger on his shoulders, kissing along his jaw line and down his neck, hands traveling down his chest, grazing his thighs. He shuddered against his, pulling her lithe, arcing body in closer until she was in his lap, her kimono coming open to reveal pale, muscled thighs. Neji inhaled unevenly, his breath coming in gasps. Tenten laughed, throwing her head back with abandon. He kissed her throat and she moaned so softly it could have been just wind in the trees.

They went back to her apartment where she made sweet tea that matched her eyes and they lay, limbs entwined on the sofa, his mouth at her collarbone and hers drifting over his back, voices effervescing into the darkness, fluid as their fingers.

He kept her love close, pressed to his heart, something warm and forgiving. She wore his on her face, in her eyes and her voice and her lips. He could read it in the twist of her hands, the way her eyes grazed his face, bumping over the smooth lines with a hint of the most thrilling friction. He loved and feared her boldness, the sharpness of her fingers against his bare skin and her quick, fierce kisses while they walked hand in hand. Her words were laced with meaning, trills of tenderness between mundane observations, the caress of her banter.

She knew he loved her; she never told. Neji was impenetrable, but not like stone is. He was impenetrable like glass. Yes, you could go through to the other side, but only at the cost of shattering it, blood on your hands, shards delving into skin. Neji's façade was impressive but it was thin, breakable and every night she prayed that no one would break through it. It was too sharp, and the shards would enter Neji's fragile skin too easily.

Their love ached. It ached for both of them-it was too powerful and it consumed her, she bore it like a sacrament, a golden idol, high above the lonely crowds. Neji could only try to hide it in himself, another unseen layer behind his eyes, coated in frosted glass. Something only for the two of them to feel, something detached, something unreal.

She wanted to be his new barrier; she wanted to protect him. Yes, yes she would die for him, but she knew he would never let her. Her façade was sheer and bright and unbreakable, only because it was nothing but the living air and thus would not hurt her if it smashed. She wanted him there with her, nothing but him, whole and real and absolutely unbreakable. _Let me_, she told him, because her fingers only traced the glass, aching to get through, never forcing.

He stayed perfectly still; he waited, letting her touch him. She was all he had and she was whole, and living and breathing. _Perhaps_, he thought, with nothing else but a prayer.

(fin)


End file.
